Bringing Back the Dayak Gods

The Dayak indigenous people of Borneo are making a final stand.  But this time, in a last desperate attempt to save their rainforests, they are calling upon the wisdom of their ancestors and their ancient belief system (Kaharingan) to try and halt the destruction caused by deforestation and land conversion to mono-cultural plantations.  But many Dayaks are facing discrimination as they try to hold onto the last traces of their roots.  In May-June, 2014, the Rainbow Family tribe of Indonesia gathered in the last of these great forests for one month and learnt more about the experiences of the Dayaks as they protect their ancestral land.

Although there are many different ethnic groups spread throughout Borneo, the Dayaks were historically well-known in the archipelago of Indonesia for fearless head-hunting, longhouses, (community houses – some with lengths of hundreds of metres) and painful, ritual tattooing (pigment tapped onto the skin with a mallet.)

Nowadays, Borneo is well-known for a different reason: palm oil plantations, rubber and mining have resulted in the destruction of one of the oldest rainforests in the world and charismatic creatures such as the orangutan are facing extinction.  Now Indonesia has the record of being the third largest emitter of carbon in the world and still the deforestation continues.  But the Rainbow family of Indonesia had heard about a small village, Kiyu, in South Kalimantan, that was making a stand against these pressures and had wisely turned down offers from palm oil companies wishing to buy their forests.  We wanted to meet these villagers – the ones who were brave enough to say no.  A small scouting team discovered the area with the guidance of the locals and the seed camp established a great kitchen up in the rainforest using tarpaulin - everything needed to be carried up the one-hour trek into the forest - all of the heavy pots and pans and equipment.  I am amazed by the tremendous work that went into the gathering and the construction work by Briegel, Silent Radit, Koji from Japan who cooked lots of our food, Bharat who became our 'doctor' and all the love from the rainbow tribe.

After a long boat-ride to Banjarmasin and a wagon-ride up to the village of Kiyu, a small, smiling old lady guided us to her small warung (home-style cafe) where we sat and drank coffee and ate fried bananas – she was expecting more of us to arrive.  We were camping in the hutan adat (tribal forest), a one hour  or half an hour trek from Kiyu village  The elders gave the rainbow family consent to stay in their forests with an official ceremony. 

A traditional Dayak ceremony of Central Kalimantan

The fact that the Dayaks can call these forests hutan adat is a great milestone for indigenous communities in Indonesia.  On 16th May 2013, in a court decision and law amendment, “customary forests” were no longer considered as government-owned forests but as “private forests” under the jurisdiction of the indigenous peoples – now the legal owners.   The indigenous Peoples’ Alliance of the Archipelago (AMAN) is integral in standing up for the rights of indigenous communities and have unfortunately noted the “Discrimination of certain beliefs or ancestral religions, such as the Kaharingan belief of Dayak Meratus and other Dayak tribes in Central Kalimantan.” 

The mountains of Meratus were certainly heaped in mysticism – after I had been camping for a few days my foot mysteriously enflamed, turning red and three passing Dayak farmers confirmed that it was ‘magic’ and that I shouldn’t go in the river.  One Dayak farmer kindly pulled a small glass bottle out of his bag. 

“It’s ten years old,” he smiled and revealed his gums.  He scraped the green paste on my feet with his long fingernails and I waited patiently as he spoke some mantras and tied two black threads around my feet to prevent the swelling from spreading up my legs.  I later spent some time with the Dayak villagers of Kiyu and learnt some local words including simpai (Dayak-style bracelet) and gayam (traditional Dayak pudding made of brown sugar and flour balls.)  They invited the rainbow family for a feast in their community house and we enjoyed a meal of rice, fish and sambal (chilli sauce) along with gayam pudding.  To show our thanks we taught them some rainbow songs, all holding hands in a beautiful circle.

A Dayak girl eating the local mangosteen fruit

The rambutan fruit (literally meaning "hairy") is native to Borneo

But their innocence existed at the periphery of civilisation.  In the neighbouring village of Batu Kambar, we stayed overnight in a household and the owner of the house bitterly explained about the discrimination he faced as a minority member from residents of Banjarmasin – the capital of South Kalimantan.  The villagers face tremendous tension concerning their animist beliefs and are pressured to convert.  Conflict is not new to Kalimantan – in 2001, in the town of Sampit, Central Kalimantan, over 500 Madurese were killed and some were decapitated by the Dayaks in the frenzy.  The Madurese had first arrived under a government transmigration program in the 1930s and the tensions had escalated between these two neighbourhoods.   Discrimination should not be lightly disregarded and history has shown how easily the sparks can explode.

Yet the Dayak people of Kiyu, despite outside influences, seemed determined to protect their ancient animist ways and they enjoyed explaining to us about the culture.  Mae! They would laugh before explaining that it meant ‘good,’ as the rainbow family helped to paint their village school with some beautiful artwork.  Many of the children came to the gathering to learn English from the rainbow brothers and sisters - about 150 people had come, mainly from Indonesia, Australia, Russia and Europe.  Some of the villagers helped us in our communal kitchen by showing us how to cook rice in bamboo poles over the fire.  They were impressed that some of us had managed to live for one month in the rainforest - eating only local foods such as cassava.  We had a simple shit pit toilet, a great sand filtration system for the river-water which was developed by Briegel and a beautiful river. 

Our days were spent singing around the fire, jamming, doing workshops and learning with the locals.  We shared poems, listened to great music by Matt Harrington and Gem, listened to Torben's fantastic stories, learnt about plants from Mesakh, experienced Pamela's amazing recipes, appreciated Bronx's recycled art and felt the giant hugs from Fami and Max.  Yet it was not always easy - the humid climate made it difficult for any infections to heal and many experienced pain as they tried to fix their wounds.  The rivers flooded at one point and there was lots of rain - at times the gathering felt like a roller-coaster, but we always managed to pull it together with the strong love that we felt for each other and the hugs and support.

As outsiders interested in the Dayak culture of Kiyu, real healing could take place as they felt our appreciation - their culture did have value and was worth protecting - despite all of the outside pressure to conform to belief systems that were not immersed within the landscape or history.  As we entered into their ancestral forests a signpost clearly marked the territory: ini hutan adat kami bukan hutan negara meaning ‘this is our tribal forest, not the government’s forest.’ 

And now the world is getting involved.  Recent international campaigns have been focused on documenting this process of ‘return’ by helping the Dayaks to express their cultural heritage with courage and confidence and to support their connection with nature.

Last May, with the help of writer Jane Brunette, the Dayak Benuaq people of Muara Tae performed an ancient vow ceremony (called Sumpah Adat) lasting 64 days which they hoped would resolve the difficulties they were facing.  Palm oil companies were illegally destroying their home and negotiations had failed - the bulldozers were moving in.  The Dayak Benuaq believe that their task on Earth is to be guardians of their forests.  For the long ceremony, each participant was asked to think carefully about their involvement since the vow required complete sincerity in the desire to restore harmony and protect the forests.  The neighbouring villagers of Muara Tae had already sold their ancestral lands and the footage released by Mina Setra, (a Dayak lady from West Borneo) demonstrated the emotional limbo faced by communities after losing their forests to palm oil. The stakes faced by indigenous communities are incredibly high.

After the gathering had finished, we hired a bus-type vehicle to carry us down from the market outside of Kiyu down to Banjar – we squeezed in between boxes and woven bags and after an hour of travelling an elderly man from the city wearing a batik shirt ushered me down from the vehicle which had suddenly stopped for a tea break.  His curt mannerisms were a stark contrast to the humble kindness of the Kiyu villagers.

As our journey continued I became aware of the sounds of a small bird emanating from the heap of wares in the centre of the vehicle and the elderly man who had noticed our prodding pulled up a woven basket from the market - inside it was an endangered baby hornbill.  The man spoke in the Banjar language but we understood the price that he wanted to sell it for – IDR 500,000 (or about $42.)  Despite our disagreeing pleas the man ignored us and popped the bird back into the mound of boxes and plastic junk. 

Back home, I kept thinking about the Kiyu villagers and I started researching the Kaharingan religion.  That’s when I saw it – they believed in the Tree of Life, at the top of which was a hornbill and the sun which represented Ranying Mahalala – meaning God – source of all life on Earth.  It seemed ironic that this small baby hornbill could mean so much and yet here it was, in the back of a van, so innocent and accepting of its fate, separated from his parents, its wings, its right to soar.

I can only hope that the Kiyu villagers will continue to believe in themselves and their rich heritage which is connected so deeply to the land and I hope that future visitors to these forests will support the Dayak people during these times by sharing a genuine interest in these cultures and the ancient, mystical forests in order to preserve them and allow the hornbill to return to its sky.